


kissing a love letter on your lips (you're in my heart)

by thanatopis



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DC Cinematic Universe, Justice League (2017)
Genre: Bottom Clark, Established Relationship, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 11:44:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12816813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanatopis/pseuds/thanatopis
Summary: Clark and Bruce have a rare evening free from crime fighting, so they make the most of it.





	kissing a love letter on your lips (you're in my heart)

**Author's Note:**

> The world needs more bottom Clark in it. I was suffering, so I wrote this.

As dates go, it’s probably one of the best that Clark has had.

It’s quiet at Bruce’s lake house, absent of any distractions, and Bruce has been nothing but a perfect gentleman the entire night. He had helped Clark slide out of his coat when he arrived, he had pulled Clark’s chair out for him when dinner was ready, and he hadn’t tried kissing Clark deeply, just a polite, closed-mouth peck on the lips that was over far too quickly for Clark’s liking, leaving him wanting.

It’s been… _nice_ , but Clark can’t help but feel like something is missing. Maybe it’s Bruce’s misplaced snark and sardonic demeanor that Clark has grown increasingly fond of over the year and several months they’ve known each other. He’s willing to put up with the uncharacteristic behavior until Bruce suggests they end the night with a film Clark distinctly remembers talking to Barry and Victor about a few weeks ago during an informal League meeting. Bruce must’ve overheard Clark expressing his desire to see the film, keeping that little tidbit of information close to his chest until the right time presented itself. Clark is still pretty sure the movie is in theaters too.

It’s endearing, how far Bruce is willing to go to make him comfortable, but Clark didn’t bring an overnight bag just to change into his pajamas and cuddle up on the couch. Clark wants to fuck; he’s been stiff in his pants for over an hour from Bruce’s fleeting touches and the faint smell of his expensive cologne teasing his nose. If Clark didn’t know any better, he’d think Bruce was purposely taunting him, but he doesn’t think that’s the case here.

“Bruce,” Clark calls out. Bruce pauses mid-step, finally noticing that Clark hasn’t motioned to follow him into the lounge. The corner of Bruce’s mouth dips down in confusion, and his brow arches with a question.

With Bruce’s attention fixed solely on him, Clark calmly exhales through his nose and deliberately saunters up close, rising the few inches that separate them to press his lips against Bruce’s own.

Bruce is startled into stillness as Clark presses close to his chest, fingers threading through the short hairs at the nape of his neck. He tilts his head and prompts Bruce’s mouth to open against his own. Clark hums with satisfaction when Bruce easily relents. He can feel Bruce’s body immediately relax into their kiss, hands coming up and bracketing Clark’s hips, running his palms up his sides, and circling around his waist to rest at the small of Clark’s back.

They kiss like that, slow and passionate for several seconds until Bruce reluctantly rears back and breaks the kiss. Clark mourns the sudden absence with a low, wounded sound as he tries to chase after Bruce’s lips. Bruce chuckles as he evades, but his hands squeeze at Clark’s hips tight, tight enough that if Clark was human, he’s sure he’d bruise.

“Is this you trying to tell me something?” Bruce murmurs, knowing and smug. Clark can’t help but to nuzzle into Bruce’s neck, laughing against his skin as a flush bleeds heat into his cheeks, betraying him. Clark takes a moment to get over his embarrassment before he raises his head, looking determinedly into Bruce’s amused eyes.

“It might be,” Clark says, coy, biting at his bottom lip.

Bruce grins, and Clark is relieved that it’s not the cheesy leer he’s seen billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne flash the paparazzi when he’s stepping into one of his luxury cars of the week. The expression is unlike any of the personas Bruce dons to hide the man behind the masks, but right here with Clark, it’s open and honest, and utterly 100 % _Bruce_.

The sight is so arousing that it takes Clark’s breath away, and he absentmindedly clutches Bruce’s dress shirt between his fingers, threatening to rip the fabric at the seams. Clark jolts at the realization of what he’d almost done, and quickly releases Bruce.

“Sorry,” Clark exhales, hands awkwardly gesturing in the air. His breath is coming too quick, he’s hot under the collar, and how Bruce is looking at him, eyes dark and wanting, isn’t helping, especially when Bruce’s lips latch onto the sensitive spot of skin underneath Clark’s ear. Clark gasps, lashes fluttering when Bruce sucks at the spot, insistent and greedy. His hands are right back on Bruce’s body when it happens, and Clark thinks, maybe, that was the intention.

Clark easily follows Bruce’s lead as the older man walks Clark backwards until his back collides against the cool kitchen counter. He arches his back, rubbing his hardening cock against Bruce’s hip, delighting in how Bruce groans right in his ear.

“Is this what you wanted?” Bruce asks, sounding increasingly out of breath as he rakes his hand through Clark’s hair, tugging at the roots, and devouring the sharp line of Clark’s jaw with hot, messy kisses.

“Since I walked in through the front door,” Clark pants, “it’s about time you did something about it. I know you’ve been doing the perfect gentleman routine on purpose, you son of a bitch.”

Bruce laughs, genuinely _laughs_ , and Clark’s heart has never felt so light.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth, Kent?”

“Just you.”

“Aren’t I lucky then.”

 

 

Clark thought he would feel nervous the first time he and Bruce slept together.

He feels no such thing however as Bruce slicks himself up and pushes carefully into Clark’s thoroughly prepared body. Clark is spread beneath Bruce, arms above his head in offering, and his legs are trembling from the anticipation alone. His breath halves when the head of Bruce’s cock enters him, and Bruce comforts Clark with the soothing press of his broad hand at the small of his back.

Clark arches powerfully as Bruce gradually presses the rest of the way inside. His cock is just like him, big and thick, and Clark narrows down on the feeling, closing his eyes in rapture as he just allows himself the luxury of _feeling_. He loses time like this, basking in the sensations Bruce can inspire from him, when he hears Bruce grunt and tense above him.

Clark’s eyes dazedly blink open, moaning softly at the sight that greets him. Bruce looks absolutely wrecked—he looks _beautiful_ —and Clark finds his hands suddenly cupping Bruce’s face, thumbs brushing tenderly over his stubbled cheeks. Bruce’s eyes widen at the manifestation of Clark’s powers in his bed, and Clark doesn’t have time to wonder if he’s made a mistake when Bruce rushes in and claims his mouth, tongue licking along Clark’s bottom lip.

Bruce begins to move then, powerful thrusts that has Clark gasping against his lips and the bed rocking.

He’s never felt anything like this before.

“Oh god— _Bruce_ —”

Clark so desperately wants to ask if Bruce feels it too—whatever is brewing between them—but he can’t get the words out. His hands reach around, caressing down that strong back that’s thrusting deep inside him as Bruce’s pace quickens.

Cursing, Clark throws his head to the side and drags his teeth against his bottom lip as Bruce relentlessly begins pounding him into the mattress. It’s… _good_ , so fucking good, and Clark can’t contain himself as he starts moaning openly—loudly—begging for Bruce, and only Bruce.

“Are you going to come for me?” Bruce asks, panting, sounding like he’s at the very same edge Clark is hanging off. And his voice— _Jesus_ , Bruce’s voice—could make him come just on its own, Clark is sure.

Next time, Clark thinks.

 _God_ , the fact that he’s even _allowed_ a next time embarrassingly does it for him.

Clark is startled out of his thoughts when his hair is pulled and tugged to the side. Bruce’s hand is a solid weight he doesn’t want to dislodge. He moans, smiling around the sound as he looks up to see Bruce’s teeth bared in a mockery of frustration he’s seen the man wear before. It’s always been fun riling Bruce up, but damn if it’s not sexy as hell when they’re in bed together.

“Clark, answer me.” Bruce husks, a growl coloring the bass of his tone. The hand not embedded in Clark’s hair slides down his side, along his thigh, until he hooks his hand on the underside of Clark’s knee and hikes it up, hitting a new angle that makes Clark jerk and cry out. He watches Bruce all the while, eyes gleaming with an impish glint.

“Yeah, I wanna come for you,” Clark breathes hungrily, licking the palm of his hand and circling his purpling cock. He smiles when it has the desired effect on Bruce, who moans, and spreads Clark open wider, so he can watch. “And I’m gonna—you feel so good. I can’t help myself.”

Clark pumps his cock fast and hard, twisting his wrist with long practiced motions. He wills his eyes open despite the pleasure, needing to see Bruce watch him feeling this—feeling _him_. He’s so close, he feels the pressure building in his balls, drawing up close towards his body, and getting ready to blow. He tells Bruce as much, voice stuttering in rhythm to each punishing thrust of Bruce’s hips against his ass.

“ _God_ —Clark—so gorgeous for me,” Bruce groans. “Come for me baby, come for me.”

It’s the ‘baby’ that does Clark in.

His orgasm hits him so hard that it stuns Clark, almost taking him by surprise. His whole body convulses, and his ass tightens around Bruce’s cock. He feels heat flare beneath his eyelids, exploding through the veins and capillaries around his eyes. He distantly hears Bruce curse loudly, rising on his knees to pull Clark into his lap. His shoulders are the only part of his body touching the bed as Bruce comes inside of him with a hoarse shout, and pumps his hips weakly as he fills Clark to the brim.

When the tremors pass, they slowly slink back down towards the bed, collapsing and clinging to each other, grips possessive. Clark cards his fingers through Bruce’s sweat damp hair as the older man tries to catch his breath.

He wants to say so desperately what he suspects Bruce already knows. He debates it with himself, the pros and cons, and figuratively says fuck it when he remembers telling Bruce, unapologetically, that he would only be himself in a relationship that meant this much to him.

“Hey Bruce…?”

Bruce lazily hums in question, nuzzling into Clark’s neck. He hasn’t pulled out yet, content to stay deep inside Clark for as long as he can.

“I love you.”

Bruce doesn’t even tense with the admission. He just sighs, pressing a lingering kiss to Clark’s skin.

“I know.”


End file.
